Two in Ten
by sundroptea
Summary: Ten drabbles about Lois and Clark, inspired by ten songs. The drabbles are rated individually, so please heed the warnings at the start of each chapter. Most are suitable for everyone.
1. Fantasmic

Disclaimer: I don't own Superman or Smallville, and yes, I'm super sad about that.

Author's Note: This was a drabble meme where you write ten drabbles to ten songs that come up at random in your iTunes. They run the gamut from angst to fluff to cheese, and while most are suitable for all, one is very much adult and will be clearly labled. Hope you guys like it.

Rating: K

* * *

There were times in her life where she was sure that the blows to her head were catching up with her. They had to be leaving permanent damage- her primary care physician had even told her so, at her last appointment. He'd warned her that it would do wonders for her health to stop putting herself into situations in which her brain and spinal column became bruised. She'd laughed, because, of course, she didn't plan on changing professions anytime soon, nor did she plan on leaving her boyfriend, particularly when he was the thoughtful, surprising, flying, superhero kind. Even if a number of the occasions during which she'd found herself rendered unconscious had been in someway related to him or his powers (not that she would ever blame him, of course. She probably could have been a titch more careful herself). 

Still, she mused, maybe it wasn't prudent to take her doctor's warning so lightly, as she gaped around her to take in the place Clark had decided to bring her for their six month anniversary. She wasn't sure whether or not she was hallucinating due to fluid crowding the brain.

"Disneyland, Smallville?" she asked, as he took her hand to lead her to the giant gates.

"It's supposed to be the happiest place on Earth," he told her, ducking his head slightly. He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand gently, adoringly, and pressed a kiss to it.

"I wanted you to have that, because…" He smiled that Kent smile she so adored, his big blue eyes still a tiny bit bashful, a tiny bit awed, even after six months together. "Because you let me have it everyday, wherever you are."


	2. He Say She Say Lupe Fiasco

Rated: T

* * *

"What about everyone else, Clark? Don't we matter? It's okay for you to run away and hide and we have to stay here and pick up the pieces?" 

He turned away in shame, wishing he could tell her how it was all his fault that Jonathon had died. He wished he could share it with someone at least, anyone, because the weight of it was crushing him, and he couldn't breathe.

he'd killed his father, he'd killed his father, he'd killed his father, he'd killed his father

"No! You don't get to just ignore me! Absolutely not!" Her voice was shrill, almost hysterical and he noted dimly through the stupor that had descended since his father had passed that he'd never heard her so angry. She was spitting mad, hopping mad, and she looked like she would be perfectly content to rip his head off with her bare hands.

"Lois, you don't understand!" he roared She charged at him, managing to get in his face even thought she was significantly shorter than he was.

"I don't have to! I don't fucking have to understand, Clark Kent, but Martha does, and if you leave her now _you will kill her_!"

He grabbed her shoulders, wildly; she was blurry through the tears that had begun for the first time.

"I might as well have!" And he broke, sobbing. She grabbed him, and held him tightly as she helped lower his much larger frame to the dusty wood of the loft, not worrying for a moment that their black suits were getting dirty. This was more important than what people would say at the funeral.


	3. Steady, As She Goes The Raconteurs

Rated: K

* * *

Growing up, Chloe had always envied her cousin's worldly ways. She'd been almost everywhere it was worth going, and a few places more that weren't. She was the one the adults had always left in charge of the other kids, because they knew that she had a talent for ordering people around and a knack for making people want to follow her. Lois, as the older cousin, had learned everything first. She'd taught Chloe how to climb trees, how to dance, how to double dutch, sent her letters from Aruba, and Germany, and Brazil. 

So it was with some amazement that she'd found herself years later, with Lois looking at her, frayed and too vulnerable, that she realized that it was _she _who was going to have to teach _Lois_ one of life's most important lessons: how to be open in a relationship. She wasn't an expert, by any means, but at least she didn't run screaming away from emotional commitment like Lois did.

She had no idea how she was going to go about getting Lois to admit her feelings for Clark, but she knew that until she did, she was going to have to watch Lois twitch every time his name came up, and really, it wasn't doing wonders for her nerves either.


	4. I Should Tell You RENT

Rated: K (Ahem, crack!fic)

* * *

"Look, Lois, there's something I need to tell you."

"Really?" There was a note of hysteria in her voice. "Does it have anything to do with the way you just picked that bus up and threw it fifty feet? Or, perhaps, it concerns the gentleman that you threw said bus at, who then slapped it aside like it was a wiffle ball he didn't care about?"

"It was going to hit you!" he exploded.

"The wiffle ball?"

"The bus, Lois!"

"Well, it's the wiffle ball in my analogy."

"I didn't want you to find out this way. I'm an alien, Lois."

"Oh, of course you are. Real people don't dress like you."

"I'm serious!"

"I believe you. I'm just going to sit down for awhile." And then her adrenaline ran out completely, and her legs gave out from under her.


	5. 9 to 5 Dolly Parton

Rated: K 

* * *

She'd fallen through a window from the twentieth story, been held up at the hot dog stand outside the Planet, and she had burns on her wrists and ankles from the ropes the terrorists had used to tie her up when they'd dumped her in the closet on the frigate.

Her skirt was scorched from when she hadn't been quick enough to escape the blast from the flame thrower entirely, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the bits of fluff she had in her hair from the asbestos they'd tried to suffocate her in. She was barefoot now, which was a relief because she'd turned her ankle climbing the fence outside the facility, or, well, really from landing on it crooked after _falling off_ said fence, having been startled by the guards. She spared a moment to mourn the loss of her favorite kitten heels, kicked off when she'd had to scale the banks and throw the dogs off her scent. She bowed her head in remembrance and noticed that her blouse was shredded . Must have been those mutated cats that one nut job had sicked on her when she'd picked the lock on the lab. She scratched her chin, and flakes of what she could only pray fervently was mud fluttered off. She'd gotten her copy in, and in time to make page one of the Friday edition.

She noticed an exasperated Smallville picking his way to her across the still bustling newsroom, an extra large latte in his hand for her, and an even bigger frown on his face, probably also for her. She didn't know what he was getting so worked up about.

It was just another Thursday at the Daily Planet.


	6. Stab My Back All American Rejects

Rated: K (P.S. I totally cheated on this one, because I didn't finish the thought in time. I put the song on repeat until I was done. Oops!)

* * *

Lois Lane didn't believe in regrets. She had them of course, though she tended to lie about it.

She always said that guilt was a waste of time, and regret was just guilt in emotional laymen's terms, and that was true. She said she'd do everything she'd done exactly the same if given the chance, which wasn't true at all. She occasionally longed for a do-over, a blank slate, a reprieve, like anybody else. To her credit though, she didn't dwell on it, or ever give herself over completely to self-pity.

It's the human condition to have moments in one's past that nag in that "what if" sort of way, the one that usually either precludes or follows bouts of drinking and/or utter exhaustion. This is one of Lois'.

She'd just been promoted from cub reporter for the Daily Planet, and basking in the exhilaration that came with no longer having to freelance her way towards a name for herself. She had her own desk, and as dorky as she'd felt, she got the biggest kick out of having her own phone extension.

She remembered every moment of that day perfectly.

She'd stopped for coffee, and thought to herself, how grand I am, with my big girl heels, and my grown up latte (no foam, no sugar, just the facts, ma'am) and my fabulous job. She'd felt on top of the world, queen of existence, the magnanimous embodiment of industry and truth. She made a vow, while filing patiently through the massive, gilded doors of the Planet. She would be a better person too, instead of just the best reporter.

This changed with a glimpse of one face -one fragile, tear-stained, familiar face.

"Lana! What are you doing here?" she tried to cover up the hostility she felt for the younger woman. The same woman, her mind felt it prudent to point out, who had broken her arm without remorse, and faked her own death, leaving a trail of destruction behind her like the wake from a sinking ship. Better person, she screamed back, mentally. Better person!

"I-I came to find Chloe. Is she here? I r-really need to talk to her about something." Her voice was breaking and there was a desperation in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Chloe's going to be out on assignment for most of the morning, as far as I know. Is something wrong?" The big sister in her had to ask, but the rest of her just didn't care and wanted to charge for the closing elevator doors and escape. Screw being a better person, she decided. She was just fine the way she was if it meant she could be out of there quicker. Lana hesitated.

"It's about- well, it's about Clark."

Lois's heart lurched, and her stomach clenched like a fist around the bagel she'd snarfed on her way.

"Is he alright?" Lois started to calculate how long it was going to take to get to Smallville, and already had her cell phone out to call in sick to the job whose foyer she was currently in. "What happened? Is Martha okay?"

Lana's eyes narrowed a bit, and her reluctance became even more pronounced. "No, no, it's nothing like that. They're both… fine, physically."

Lois gritted her teeth, stabbing the "END" button on her phone with unrestrained brutality. "Then what _is _wrong, Lana? Because I have a meeting with a source (and oh Lois could remember so well the thrill she'd felt, even at that moment, to speak those words and finally have them _mean _something) in fifteen minutes, and if I'm not sufficiently caffeinated by that time, well… I don't think grouchy Lois will be able to display sufficient professionalism when she questions him."

"It's just… Clark's decided to do something. And I think he's making a mistake." She bit her lip, and pulled something from her purse. "A big one. And it's not one that he can just come back from. It's really going to change things and I don't think he's making the right decision."

"Oh, well…" Lois floundered. She had been under the impression that Lana and Clark were in one of their relationship-jalopy's stalls. "You know Smallville. He's not that bright, but his heart is always in the right place. I'm sure he'll be fine."

Lana didn't look convinced, but she seemed unwilling to say any more. "Look, I have the feeling that he's going to stop by here later. Could you maybe give this to Chloe to give to him?" She thrust an envelope at her. "Or give it to him yourself, if you see him? I'm going to go keep looking. I-I have to go."

She turned smartly on her heel and left, without another word.

"That is one odd tomato," Lois muttered, staring bemusedly after her. "Seriously."

She studied the envelope briefly, noting Clark's name in Lana's flowing script (bet she used her best handwriting and _everything,_ Lois had thought nastily) and shrugged, tucking it into her purse.

It had been barely an hour later when she'd encountered Clark as she was seeing her source out. He'd told her how he was leaving for a while, to get his bearings, and grow up a bit. He planned to travel the world, he'd told her, and decide what kind of man he wanted to be in it. He'd looked so strong just then, though she knew his heart was breaking over the thought of leaving his beloved Smallville, and family behind. He'd assured her that he would call Chloe and let her know that he was sorry he missed her, and told her that he didn't have any timeline for how long he'd be gone for, but that he didn't expect to return for a while. She'd correctly intuited that he was going to be incommunicado indefinitely and that there would be sporadic if any correspondence. She had never been more proud of him, and she had grasped onto that sentiment in a effort to ignore the roiling emotions queuing in her stomach. That fluttering ball of sadness, and joy, and understanding and… fondness… wouldn't do to be dwelled on just then.

He'd told her he would miss her, and that he hoped she would think of him sometimes, because he'd surely never forget about her. He'd given her that Kent smile that was like a crowbar to the knees, and stood to go.

He was almost to the elevators when she'd remembered about the letter.

"Clark!" she'd called, chasing after him, and skittering to a halt in front of him when her heels slid on the tile. He'd taken her arms to help stabilize her, and she looked up into his blue eyes for what she knew would be the last time for a long time. They already looked grander, older, more secure. They were eyes that a man should be proud of, she'd thought fuzzily. She crumpled the envelope in her fist.

"Nothing, Smallville," she'd said. She went for broke and flung her arms around him, giving him a Mad Dog Lane Bear-hug Special, and she'd thrilled at the sound of his startled bark of laughter in her ear as he'd swung her around once. She chucked him on the shoulder. "Keep your head up and your nose clean, soldier."

She hadn't pulled away immediately and neither had he. "Would it be futile of me to ask that you try and stay out of trouble too, Miss Lane?"

She cocked her head and smiled sassily, not thinking about how foolish it was to pin your heart on a man who had just outlined his plans for evacuation.

"Absolutely."

One more squeeze, a soft goodbye and he was gone, out of her life, out of orbit for the next forever of time.

Five years later, gently stroking her husband's hand where it was splayed possessively across her abdomen (her husband, who was infinity times the man he'd been when he'd left, who saved the world daily and still had that same blinding Kent smile), she explored that memory and imagined the letter moldering away somewhere in the Metropolis dump.

She smiled. She didn't regret _that _decision even one little bit.


	7. No Sleep Tonight The Faders

Rated: T

* * *

"Oh God," he gasped, as his back hit the wall. Lois ran one hand through her hair, the other perched on her jutting hip, striking the most provocative pose he'd ever seen in real life. Particularly considering that she was stark naked as she did it. She smiled, a wicked curl of demonic lips, and sauntered up to him, one hand fisting in his t-shirt, as she drew her leg up to hitch over his waist. She trailed a teasing finger down his throat and made him jump when she gave his Adam's apple a tiny lick.

His heart might have stopped beating. He couldn't feel his limbs. That smile taunted him. Her hazel eyes sparkled before she pulled his head down for a searing kiss.

"Smallville, it's ok. In the bedroom, you can call me 'Lois.'"


	8. Heartbeats Jose Gonzalez

Rated: K 

* * *

"I know you don't know quite what you mean to me. I'm not very good at expressing myself, and when I try it usually comes out wrong, but I love you. I love you when you're yelling, especially when it's at me. I love you when you cry and tell me it's your hay fever, especially that time we were flying and there was no pollen for a thousand miles. I love how you lie, by the way, because you're exceptional at it. Except for those times when you can't at all. I love those times even more. I love how you've stopped looking at Superman like he's everything, and how you've started looking at me like I'm something. I love how you always smell like coffee, no matter what perfume you're wearing. I love how you smile, every single different one. I love how you're quiet only when you think you're not being looked at. I love-" he choked, his head falling to the bed beside her small, too still hand. "I love you so much sometimes I think about killing Superman, letting him die, so that I could spend my life protecting you and making you happy. Even if it's just as Clark Kent, super-friend. Lois, if you don't wake up, I don't know what I'll do. I'm scared of myself- I'm scared of how broken the world looks without you in it. I need you," he sobbed, the air in his chest burning in a way kryptonite never could. He buried his face in the scratchy hospital sheets and cried.

"Please, God, I'll do anything, anything. I'll serve the world for a million years, I'll give up my family, I'll give up _her_, I'll let _myself_ die and be Superman forever, just let her live! Let her live!" His fingers pressed dents into the bedrail he was clutching. "How could I have let her get hurt? Please," he whispered brokenly. "Please, let her live."

A cold hand stroked down his cheek. He jerked up to see her watching him, a small smile tugging at the bruised corners of her mouth. She patted her throat, and rolled her eyes, to tell him that she couldn't talk. His entire body sagged at once, in a relief so profound it too was painful, and he scattered fervent kisses over the hand he now cradled in his own.

"Lois," he murmured. "Lois, thank God, thank God!"

She withdrew her hand gently, moving it to rest on his chest.

"Clark," she croaked, tracing the crest of the House of El.


	9. My Moon, My Man Feist

Rated: K 

* * *

"C'mon, Farmer Ted! Pick up those feet!"

Lois danced ahead of Clark up the path. She plucked a stray leaf off a low hanging branch and threw it at the glowering man in the eye-raping plaid shirt. He dodged it easily, and by her estimation, began to walk even _slower_. She exhaled noisily -pointedly- and marched back, stomping around behind him, where she grabbed both of his arms and began to push.

"Tell me again why I agreed to hare off into the middle of nowhere with you, to an undisclosed location, for an undisclosed reason, and for no stated purpose other than 'do it or else?'"

"Because you have little to no sense of self-preservation, Smallville." She really threw her weight into this shove, but she somehow wasn't surprised to find it had little effect. It was like trying to move a really grumpy mountain. A flutter of nervousness flared in her stomach, but she brushed it aside. Too late to execute a retreat, Lane. All troops press on.

She blew her bangs out of her eyes, exasperated, and tried again. "Jesus, could you even _be_ more of a pain in the ass? I swear, nothing bad's gonna happen to wittle cwarkiepoo! Just freaking walk a little faster before you ruin everything!"

Apparently taking pity on the girl straining behind him, he began to walk at a normal pace. Lois once again took the lead, and turned suddenly, disappearing between two rows of corn. She had her hands clasped behind her back, and stood at attention when he emerged into the small clearing. He blinked, stunned.

"Nothing ever did grow back, here, after that lightning struck," she informed him, with what she knew was an uncharacteristic tinge of anxiety.

He looked to where the blue and yellow blanket was spread out, and seemed to take in the bright red picnic basket she knew was packed to the brim with all of his favorite treats. "What is all this, Lo?" he asked, with a strange expression on his face.

"I decided that we should go on a date," she informed him. Was she blushing? It felt like she was blushing. "And what better place than where I first stumbled over your clumsy, _naked _carcass?"

She didn't know if she should feel any better when she saw him bite his cheek in that way he did when he was trying not to laugh, especially over something she'd done. He crossed his arms over his chest. "And you didn't think it was maybe, I don't know, _prudent _to get _my_ opinion on this decision of yours?"

"Look, Smallville, if we're going to be dating, you need to get one thing straight about Lanes right now. We provide information on a need to know basis, and in this chain of command, _I'm_ the one who gets to determine who needs what." She grinned up at him, tilting her chin defiantly, but there was definitely a sheepish twist to her lips.

At least, there was until he covered them with his own.


	10. Cupid's Chokehold Gym Class Heroes

Rated: M! Not suitable for children or the young at heart.

* * *

"This is a seriously bad idea, Smallville." She let him draw her body back against his anyway. He ran a hand down the smooth slope of her bare stomach, and she shivered. He buried his nose in her neck, getting drunk off her scent. He nuzzled her, unable to stop himself from licking at the salty skin, utterly obsessed with every detail of the woman he held. She moaned, burying her head in the pillow, as he parted her once more, and began to coax her devotedly to another completion. "You're insatiable, and we're going to be late."

The late afternoon sunlight streamed in through his bedroom window, painting her in tones of bronze, as he encouraged her to accept him for a third time. She arched back as he brushed a particularly pleasing spot of her already over-sensitized skin. "Yes," she hissed, and he smiled in amazement as he dropped kisses along the back of her neck. She shifted her body so she was under him, and muffled her moan in his comforter. She swiveled her hips and he thought he felt his veins burst open, too insufficient to properly contain the need boiling in his blood for this woman. He spread his knees a little further between hers, and had to think of other things to keep control when he heard her gasp his name.

He hooked under her arms and pulled her up so that she was braced with her back against his upright chest. She moved in measured counter to his slow, gentle thrusts, until he let one finger trail over where the were joined, and then she burst, frenzied, seeing the stars he fell from. He turned her head to catch her lips, and when he did, he fell to earth again. They sank back down to the sheets in boneless languor, and he covered her with the plaid blanket she loved to complain about. He drew her to him, until she was draped across his chest, and pressed his lips to the crown of her head. He decided they still had time, and that it would be okay to let her sleep for a few minutes before he woke her to begin getting ready for his mother's charity benefit. He didn't count on falling asleep himself, but sometimes that's how life goes.

Two hours later, that's how Chloe and Lana found them, when they came to pick them up for the drive.


End file.
